


These People Raised Me (I Was Younger Then)

by blackorchids



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Growing Up, Happy Ending, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Kid Yevgeny Milkovich, M/M, Mickey Milkovich & Svetlana Milkovich Friendship, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Post-Canon, Same-Sex Marriage, Sibling Love, Team as Family, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 17:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18286478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackorchids/pseuds/blackorchids
Summary: They’re all getting older.





	These People Raised Me (I Was Younger Then)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys guess who’s reviving another age-old fandom
> 
> title from Ed Sheeran’s _Castle On The Hill_

It takes Ian months to convince Mickey that any amount of family should be allowed to come, much less _the entire goddamn circus you’re related to, jesus fuck, gallagher_ , but Ian and Mickey both know he’s gonna give in eventually, so the arguing and sulking is really just for show.

They decide to do it in the summer, after Carl graduates. Mickey makes a joke about the surprise of Carl actually graduating totally overshadowing their own event, and Ian nails him hard enough in the arm that the bruise lasts for days.

Carl gets his diploma a year late, dressed in a too-long gown and a cap with one corner missing, and he flips off the entire administration as he walks across the stage to thunderous applause. Their group of family and friends take up three full rows on the bleachers, and there are all sorts of families giving them weary looks.

Liam’s fancy-ass private school ends three weeks after CPS, because funding cut the city’s school year short again, and then everyone is in a flurry of preparation and making sure Mickey sees neither hide nor hair of that preparation.

The cake Debbie has been working on for ten straight days is stuffed in the back of The Alibi’s walk-in fridge, and Fiona makes Liam mow the lawn in the empty lot next to the long-standing Gallagher house. Franny and Yev are tasked with filling those stupid meshy sacks with those terrible crunchy minty marshmallows, Amy and Gemma are in charge of wiping down all of the chairs from the bar so Svetlana and Veronica can line them up in neat little rows in the newly-cleaned up lot, and everyone has been sworn to secrecy, so that Mickey doesn’t have to beat the crap out of anyone.

Ian curls up next to him at night and breaks their secrecy vows and smiles all big and goofy-like, and suddenly they’re ten years younger, and Mickey’s faced with this boy who looks at him with stars in his eyes and he’s not quite sure how to handle it.

July rolls in, blazing hot and sticky, and Mickey pretends to throw a fit about the suit being too damn hot to wear, and Ian stands at the grill, flipping patties and agreeing with everything he says, not paying Fi and V any attention when they get too drunk and start to giggle about _nagging wife and doting husband_ stereotypes.

Mickey gets even more incensed when Ian tells him, completely genuinely, that he can wear one of his cut-off t-shirts and some shorts instead of the suit, that Ian won’t care one single bit, and somehow Mickey slugging Ian in the stomach turns into Ian getting Mickey in a headlock turns into the pair of them swapping spit against the fence and a whole round of burgers getting a little crispy.

Mandy gets back a few days early, hair color settled on a more natural light brown color, outfits a happy medium between ghetto skank and Northside prep, and Lip falls over himself in his haste to act like a complete tool, attending to her every need and hanging onto her every word. Iggy and Colin show up a day later, both of them doing their best to hit on Fiona outside of Mickey’s earshot, which is not great after so many years of shooting guns without earplugs.

The twenty-third of July dawns grey and dreary, a welcome respite from the twenty two previous days of scorchers the month had had to offer them, and Mickey rolls over until he’s pressed right up against Ian, kissing his gross morning-breath mouth. They have languid morning sex, hardly moving at all as they rock against one another, and then Ian gets up to take his meds while Mickey gets tackled by Yev, who’s still trying to convince them to take him along. He’s really too old for this kind of clingy behavior, but he doesn’t remember a time in his life where Ian and Mickey weren’t within arms’ reach, and no one’s going to discourage this boy from being soft-hearted.

“Your ma’s excited to have you to herself,” Mickey tells him, not for the first time, and, like it has before, this seems to perk Yev up enough that he lets Mickey up off the bed. Mickey fireman-carries the kid down the hall into the kitchen, where Ian and Svetlana are giggling over mugs of her weird Russian tea. When Mickey shows up, they fall silent, shooting him identical—and terrifying—smug looks.

“Lana wants to talk to you about the wedding night,” Ian says, after he’s waited for Mickey to take a much-needed gulp of coffee first, that asswipe. Yevgeny thinks his daddy spraying the table with coffee is the funniest thing ever, of course, and they’re running a little late by the time they finally finish eating what Mickey refuses to call _brunch_.

Ian heads over to the Gallagher house after kissing everyone on the temple in farewell and Lana calls Mickey a shithead when he tries to help with the dishes, so Mickey takes Yev into his room and gets him dressed first, in his little grey slacks and a pale blue heavily-starched shirt that perfectly matches the one Mickey’s got.

Lana comes in when Mickey’s mostly dressed himself, just struggling with his tie like he always does, horrible shiny dress-shoes in disarray by the dresser. She’s not wearing her heels yet, so she and Mickey are at perfect eye-level, and he lets her do up his tie for him, swallowing hard as she makes quick work of it.

She meets his gaze and must read something in his expression, because her face twists for a moment before relaxing again. “Do not trip,” she tells him, startling him into laughter.

“Cheap whore,” he says to her, when he’s recovered, with absolutely no malice at all.

“Piece of shit,” she replies, equally as fond, and she squeezes his hand once and then leaves him alone to catch his breath.

The three of them take the Buick the four blocks to the Gallagher house, and the clouds hold up, bathing everything in a white-grey light but showing no signs of rain. Inside, the house is neater and calmer than Mickey’s ever seen it, and Debbie hugs him like they hadn’t seen one another a few days earlier, Carl fist-bumps him and says some bullshit about Harvard Law, Lip flips him off, and Fiona gazes at him, warm and steady, from where she’s helping Kev sound out last-minute changes to his hastily-penned script.

Mandy hugs him too, when he steps out the back door and sees what they’ve done to the two yards, how clean it looks, how legitimate it feels. She hugs him tight, and keeps herself tucked underneath his arm as she walks him around the rows of chairs, slouching a little to make up for the height her heels give her. Neighbors and bar patrons and a handful of the old Rub-n-Tug girls are milling about, Sheila talking to a very bewildered Colin, Kate and Jess shooting the shit with Tony Markovich, Iggy goofing around with Hymie and the rest of the kids dotted around the space.

Everyone in their lives made time to come, and if Mickey were a different kind of person, he’d be tearing up at the sentiment. He’s sure Ian’s been dripping all morning. As it is, he has to swallow again before he can tune back into Mandy’s weird monologue about the chicken they’re going to be eating afterwards.

Suddenly, Mandy ditches him, and Mickey whirls to find her before he gets distracted by the appearance of Ian, who’s wearing pale grey and pastel green and smiling so big it’s gotta hurt.

“Hey,” he says when he reaches Mickey, leaning over and hooking one of his little fingers with one of Mickey’s. All of the lingering discomfort at this lot full of witnesses dissipates, and Mickey smirks back at him, grin widening when Ian rolls his eyes a little.

“You ready?” Mickey asks, and, fuck him, but it sounds like a challenge more than it sounds like a loving invitation. Luckily, Ian’s into it, his mouth curving into something a little more competitive.

“Are _you_?” He replies and Mickey scoffs.

They make their way through the throngs of people until they meet Kev up in front of all of the chairs, littlest fingers still liked, and Ian feels like he could fly he’s so happy. Kev uses his last call voice to get everyone to shut up and sit down, and Ian takes a peek at all of the people they’re doing this life thing with, and feels so impossibly grateful. He and Mickey turn their attention to Kev. 

“Dearly beloved,” Kev starts solemnly, after clearing his throat way too many times. “We are gathered here today, to watch these two homos get gay-fucking-married.”

“Finally!” Lip yells from somewhere behind them, and the mood is broken as the whole crowd starts whooping and cheering enough that Ian’s whole face feels hot and Mickey's a little pink up on his cheekbones.

*

Ian decides not to risk a happy wedding night and, instead of swooping Mickey over like a heroine, he just cups the man’s face and plants a quick, firm kiss on his mouth, ring heavy and right at home on his third finger.

Everyone knows how Mickey is at this point, so most of them congratulate Kev on getting through the ceremony without crying instead of coming over to the newlyweds, and Tony fires up the grill and Carl starts mixing cocktails in red plastic cups and, before long, it’s starting to get dark and everyone’s had too much cake and Holly and Kate light up the field with the headlights of two cars parked close enough.

Mickey’s roaring drunk, laughing with his sister and brothers for the time being, and people are starting to dance, badly, thanks to Lip taking initiative and leading the younger Gallaghers in a horribly embarrassing conga line. 

Ian makes his way through the crowds, accepts a dozen congratulatory messages now that he’s not toting along his grump of a _husband_ , until he reaches Fiona, lounging on a plastic yard chair, nursing a cup of Old Style. He slumps and squashes his way next to her, kicking his legs out in front of him and refusing her offer of her beer with a laugh.

They watch in rapt attention when Lip finally ditches the family conga line to dance with Mandy, and they stare as Debbie gets approached by some neighborhood boy and Carl starts grinding up against his boyfriend, and Fiona leans her head against the back of the chair and lets out a breath that seems like it’s waited twenty years to be freed.

“Congrats,” she tells him, sincere and soft and just a little bit tired, and Ian turns to look at her, watching this family she’s held together and raised and fought for, every day of her life. With a start, he realizes she’s got the start of lines at the corners of her eyes, that her forehead creases stay even though she’s relaxing her brows, that her laugh lines and stress lines last longer than her expressions.

With a start, Ian realizes his big sister is getting _old_. Against all odds, Carl’ll be out of the house and starting college in the fall, and, soon enough, Liam will follow, and Fiona will be free. He wonders if it’ll be as terrifying and wonderful as it was for him and Mickey, when they came out. He wonders if she regrets not just leaving when she could.

He tries to make his mouth form words, but a bland little _thank you_ feels trite, and there’s no way he could manage anything more sincere. Maybe not ever. Impulsively, he drags the pad of his finger over the lines by her eyes, and swallows hard. She turns her gaze to him, almost questioning, but Fiona’s always been good at this, and she seems like she can read it off his face in a second.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Ian says. She knows what he means.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had that part about one of the Gallagher kids noticing Fiona developing wrinkles stuck in my head FOREVER and this is what it turned into, I guess
> 
> Talk to me on [tumblr](http://www.rosalinesbenvolio.tumblr.com)!


End file.
